You know when you need to get something off of your mind so you write it out somewhere and then things automatically feel better? Well, I do.

Here lies a placeholder for what was once a very personal yet somewhat fictionalized piece of experimental writing. The very act of capturing all my thoughts on paper (digital paper) was therapy enough. Thanks for listening and immediately forgetting all about it, DT.

Crisis over!

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(For the sake of the archives, I managed to find the original post using google's cache. Here you go guys, glad you enjoyed it.)

"Who's this idiot who looks like me and what did he do last night?"

Kensington. Friday night. Find a fedora and a ukelele because tonight's a costume party birthday and Jason Mraz is an easy costume. Just go with it.
Get to the house with friends, hey how's it going, I haven't seen you in forever, what's up man, happy birthday, I brought rum, I can't believe you set up an open bar in the basement, let's go get some drinks.
I'll have whatever you're having.
Hey how's it going.
I'll have whatever you think I'll like.
Hey how's it going. Yeah, hat and guitar. John Mayer, close enough.
Give me something I've never tried before. Make it up, why not.
You're a worker from Jurassic Park, that's an awesome costume.
Gin and tonic?
I almost wore my black cowboy hat and came as a bad-ass sheriff, we could have been costume soulmates! I like the cowgirl thing you're doing.
Gin and tonic.
Gin and tonic.
It's getting crowded isn't it, that's cool though.
You need to stop shooting that guy in the face with that dart gun. Oh it's fun? Alright, let me try.
Sorry man.
You're right, that was fun.
Someone told me to try a broken down golf cart. All you have is punch. Is that a star fruit? Awesome.
Wolverine! No I knew before I saw the claws, the sideburns and leather jacket did it. Nice.
Gin and tonic. Yeah, it's kind of manly, everything else you guys are making tastes like candy.
Hey.
She wants something that tastes like candy.
No, that's Jack Johnson. I sang "I'm Yours". Yeah, there you go. No it's a not a real ukelele, it's just a prop. The frets don't align properly. Well, you don't even have a costume.
What are you drinking? Why's it blue?

Wake up on my friend's couch. Um.
I don't know what happened, what happened?
She's mad. I don't remember the last part of the night. What happened?
Vague response.
Shit.
"Get up, we have rehearsal in 20 minutes."
We don't talk on the walk there.

Rehearsal.
Dancing.
How are you feeling?
You alright?
You look like shit.
"How are you doing you had a big night." Apparently. "Yeah." Ugh. "It's okay, I've done worse." That's not reassuring. "...Yeah."

"4 of us walked you to her house. It was a challenge"
"She kept calling you an idiot."

"I thought you were going to die! Haha." Haha.

I think you told your best friend you loved her. And hit on her for the rest of the night. And then she had to take care of you instead of talking to the guy she really liked.
Shitshitshitshit.
Do I? I don't. I don't think so.
Thinkthinkthinkthinkthink.
I don't think I think of her that way. I think.
I can't remember any of this.
Shitshitshit.

"I helped you put on your shoes for half an hour, it was hilarious."

We should talk.
Wondering how to go about this.
Wondering if she's mad for interrupting her potential romance or for interrupting with my drunk notion of potential romance or for throwing up outside of her house at 3am.
Wondering if inebriation brings out honesty or bullshit.
Wondering if "I'm not interested in you but only because you're not interested in me" will be good enough.

Curing loneliness with even more loneliness

Just over a year ago, I found a plastic card on the street. It was all black except for the words "EB GAMES" in big red type on the front. I put it in my wallet and assumed I would use it later. I had since forgotten about it.

Passing by an EB today, I remembered that the card had been taking up space in my pocket almost every day for the past year and a half, so I stopped in and asked how much money was on this dirty old gift card.

Turns out I've been carrying around a hundred bucks in video games for a year and a half.

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Since returning to the T-Dot from my formerly gregarious lifestyle of Maritime university friends and Quebecois high school friends, I've been able to literally feel the loneliness seep into my life. I recognize this feeling: I lie in bed until just after 12:00, I run the few errands I've set aside for that day, maybe perusing the city's many ludicrous fashion stores and revel in the disgust I can't help but feel when looking at mannequins wearing silly and colourful clothes worth more than my rent.

With any luck I'll start work soon, , but that won't fill the gap created upon leaving my cozy Halifax nook. Maybe I took for granted the ability to call any number of my friends and take the five-minute walk down to the Wardy for a $2.50 Keiths, but the knowledge that I could was what stripped me of the social void I fall into every summer.

That's what kills me: I know this feeling. Every summer, for as long as I can remember, I spend time alone in my basement, replaying old Zelda games, renting four movies a week, spending heinous amounts of time on Facebook. Wishing I could bring myself to read all the books I've been telling myself I ought to read, only to find that my copious lethargy makes me immune to sitting still and concentrating for longer than ten minute intervals. I get so clinically lazy that I can't bring myself to do something that requires any sort of disciplined investment.

I'm not depressed, just aimless.

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I bought six video games today, all used, sort of on a whim--short of buying Rock Band for absolutely no reason, I figured it was the best use of the hundred dollars. I could feel my summer degenerating into arthritis as he told me I had $15 remaining on the card.

This post turned out indulgently long only because I've literally nothing else to do. (I played two of the six games already; I'm just taking a break.)

Granted, I finished university a bit earlier than almost all of my friends; I anticipate the shared two-fours and Banquet Specials that will inevitably precede shouting "BRUUUUCE!" in a car to Manchester, TN. This summer will not be horrendous, and I know I have friends here.

Mostly, I'm just fucking bored.

There's Something Absolutely Ridiculous About Watching Face/Off In the Library

"It's for school, I swear! I'm writing a paper on the evolution of transnational cinema and face/off is a really good example of...

Oh, Fuck it."

science experiment

i've been awake for 39 hours. (i'm more than halfway to being legally insane, apparently, though i can't find a credible source to link to)

when i close my right fist, the knuckles of my fourth and fifth fingers yell at me. i can't stay on my tip-toes for more than 2 seconds because my legs give out from under me. my left hand doesn't do anything bad when i close it into a fist, but when i straighten my arm, my elbow starts complaining. my mouth is constantly dry, and i've lost my voice. i'm too out of it to move 6 feet to my bed so i've been sitting here and almost blacking out for about an hour.

that's what 7 hours of hip-hop choreo, follow by a midterm the next morning, then class and 6 hours of building a robot will do to you, i guess.

at some point last summer, i thought it would be an awesome idea to get a group of close friends together and try to stay awake for as long as possible whilst staying within a confined space close to each other. i ran this idea by my good korean friend and he said it was the stupidest thing he's ever heard.

i'm beginning to think that he's won this round. my mind will probably change in the morning though.